


Tongue Tied

by melodycanta



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: M/M, Thirsty Tokiya, Tongue Twisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodycanta/pseuds/melodycanta
Summary: Otoya's struggling with a line that's working his tongue in ways he can't control.  Tokiya helps him get some practice.





	Tongue Tied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xBungeeGum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBungeeGum/gifts).



> I suck and forgot about time zones, so happy late birthday, Shiira!!!!!
> 
> I won't claim this is good, but I haven't written thirsty Tokiya in too long and I miss him. There was a great possibility of smut here, but I am an inept writer and can't write it to save my life, so . . . yay for time limits.
> 
> The line Otoya is trying to say is "she stood on the balcony, inexplicably mimicking him hiccuping, and amicably welcoming him in." According to the internet, it's a warmup that actors do to warm up their lips and tongues, but . . . idk man, it's a weird line.

“She stood on the balcony, inexplicably mimicking him hippupp—oh crap.”

“CUT!”

Otoya cringed when the director called the scene, trying not to groan in frustration. He’d never thought about how hard it would be to play an aspiring actor, seeing as he had passed that stage himself, but he’d never had to do crazy tongue twisters before. The camera already made him nervous. Having to do oral gymnastics while being filmed was worse.

“I’m sorry! Let me try again!”

“You need to relax. Take ten, and we’ll run it from the top.”

He rushed to his dressing room, face burning in shame. The entire cast had seen him flub that one. He needed to go back to safety and solitude to run the lines over and over again until it was the only thing he could say. 

But, of course, he couldn’t have five minutes of peace. The dressing room wasn’t only his, and who else should be in there but his boyfriend, roommate, and rival, perched on the chair in front of the makeup counter. He couldn’t have been in there long—Otoya had seen him make a tiny frown when he’d screwed up that line—but he was lounging there as casually as he would have had he’d been there the entire time. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said when Otoya entered.

“It’s, uh . . . my dressing room.”

“ _Our_ dressing room.”

Otoya recognized his tone; he wasn’t moving. “I’m going to find a broom closet,” he said, doing a 180 degree turn. He needed to stay focused, to practice, to think about his words and trying to make them with his mouth, otherwise ten minutes were going to pass and he was going to do the same thing he just did all over again. 

“ _Stay._ ”

That was Tokiya’s warning voice, that low purr that shot heat through Otoya’s veins. He instinctively froze, and of course, that was when Tokiya decided to get to his feet, sauntering towards the door to shut it. His movements were sinuous and sensual, confidence radiating from every pore. This was Tokiya at his most alluring, his eyes practically undressing Otoya as he neared. “I—um . . .”

“Just relax. That’s what the director needed you to do, right?”

Otoya wasn’t sure what was more distracting: the way Tokiya’s fingers were tracing over his jaw or the gentle scent of mint wafting in the air towards him. “T—Tokiya,” was all he could say through his dry mouth. His brain was already starting to go fuzzy.

“Relax.”

A gentle kiss was pressed to his temple, and the last threads of coherent thought started to unravel. “We don’t have time,” he tried to protest. 

“Don’t worry about that. I’m watching the time.” Tokiya’s voice was still low, but reassuring this time, stepping out of seduction for just a moment before he gave a low chuckle. The hand that wasn’t wandering around his jaw suddenly appeared at Otoya’s back, jerking him forward until he was pressed so tightly to Tokiya’s chest that there was no room for his chest to expand to breathe. “Now . . . you’re having problems with tongue twisters, so perhaps we should give your tongue some practice.”

Tokiya could have told him to go drink poison and he probably would have done it, but luckily, all he wanted was a kiss, taking advantage of Otoya’s slightly parted lips to shove his tongue inside. Usually they’d have some sort of preamble, some chaste pecks before taking charge, but it was like he was being devoured this time. Tokiya’s movements were smooth and self-assured, almost forceful in the way he took what he wanted, and Otoya had no choice but to give it to him, not that he would have fought back anyways. The way that the heat of Tokiya’s hand seeped through his jacket and against his back, the other hand tipping his chin back for the best angle, made his knees weak. Tokiya tasted of mint, his tongue cool against Otoya’s as he teased the muscle into responding. 

Otoya’s head was swimming when they parted for air but Tokiya showed no signs of stopping, not with that smirk on his face that made Otoya feel like the hunter’s prey. “You can do better than that,” he goaded.

Had he been a little more cognizant, he might not have taken the bait, but he’d barely recovered his breath before he was smashing his own mouth onto Tokiya’s, coaxing his tongue in to gently bite the tip, licking along the ribs of Tokiya’s upper teeth before focusing his energy on the spine and the sensitive underside. If Tokiya wanted some tongue, that was what he was going to get, and the quiet moan of surprise he elicited only spurred him on further. 

He knew Tokiya and where his weak spots were. He knew that if he trailed his hand up to frame Tokiya’s jaw, his middle finger would rest right at a sensitive spot that would made Tokiya flinch when he scraped his short nail gently against it. He knew if he ground against him that Tokiya would lift him up and bring him to the nearest flat surface to push him onto. He was planning his attack, one hand inching into Tokiya’s back pocket, when a knock on the door startled him enough he very narrowly missed headbutting Tokiya when he jumped. 

“Break’s up! Round up!” came the call from outside the dressing room.

It suddenly occurred to him exactly where they were, and it was not where they could continue this. “You knew we’d run out of time,” he accused, although the effect was less intimidating thanks to how breathless he was.

“I did.” Tokiya’s smile was smug, and he pressed one last kiss against Otoya’s mouth before stepping away from him. “And now that you’re relaxed, you can go say that line.”

“I’m not relaxed!” In fact, he was probably more wound up than before. He could feel his face burning.

It was a good thing Tokiya stopped before he opened the door, because the look he gave was sultry enough that Otoya forgot to breathe. “Well, if you mess it up again, we’ll just have to give your tongue some more practice tonight.” He winked before exiting the dressing room, leaving Otoya a puddle of embarrassment and arousal. 

“I’ll show you whose tongue needs practice,” he huffed, shaking his head to try to clear it before stomping out of the dressing room himself. Regardless of how it went, he vowed to get Tokiya back for this later, preferably in a way that made him speechless.


End file.
